


Tearing the Walls Down

by homerknighlty (Homer42)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rehab AU, derek is a hot sweaty construction worker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homer42/pseuds/homerknighlty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles would not be good for business, that's all he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tearing the Walls Down

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Something I’ve noticed is that people enjoy writing Derek as a successful and hard working—albeit reclusive—businessman/CEO. Likewise, Stiles in these AUs is the near equally well-off intern or lover that fits right in with Derek’s company.
> 
>  
> 
> I’ve just twisted this concept a bit.
> 
>  
> 
> The whole reason I wrote this fic was because I wanted Stiles to be such a nuisance that Derek has to screw him shut in the middle of a rehab project. Like a squeaky door.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** “Teen Wolf” (MTV) is not mine. Some OCing might ensue, be wary.
> 
> [Un-Beta'd; 1st Draft]

His neighborhood had grown since childhood, Derek Hale notices. There’s more downtown activity and economic growth. New families have migrated out of Los Angeles over the past decade or so; settling into a more suburban lifestyle, choosing homely Beacon Hills as their endgame residence.

Derek makes out as much new detail of his old town as he can while he concentrates on driving. His keen eye catches both the positives and negatives. A booming population which triggers mainstream business opportunities is all-good-and-well, but the County government focusing their efforts into selling forested lots for townhomes and shopping-malls leaves local companies left to dwindle. And a lot of the historical homes are left to rot or be bulldozed, in favor of the more contemporary cookie-cutter’s being built. Derek sees the prosper and the grunge whisk past his window with equal friction.

But that’s why he’s returning: to rebuild and renew.

Derek finds the government offices he was directed to by his client. The modern and white of the two-story building clashes with the brick and stone walls downtown offers. He parks his black Camaro near the front of the lot. As he heads into the building, snow begins to fall, and he reminds himself to brace for winter.

The secretary desk is curved and oak and clean of paperwork. A young man sits behind a thin computer, concentrating on the screen. Derek almost doesn’t want to disturb him because he looks busy, but Derek is late for meeting his client already. The secretary gives Derek a visitors pass and directions to Mrs. Morrells office, at the end of Beacon Hill’s Historical Department Hall.

The Hall is tight, and the walls are bland. Derek knocks on the office door. A slender black woman with equally slender hair answers. She smiles, a smile that isn’t forced nor sincere.

“Derek Hale,” Morrell offers him her hand, and he takes it. Then she does something surprising: she flips her hair over her shoulder and tilts her head, exposing her neck. A sign of submission, posing to show no threat—a greeting common for werewolves, but Derek knows she isn’t a werewolf. More importantly, Derek hasn’t come out as a werewolf. None of his family ever did.

How does she know? He glares down at her, but does nothing; not ready to deny her gesture but not eager to return it, either.

Morrell grins. “Step into my office and we’ll talk,” she says, her voice calm and guised. And now Derek knows there’s more to this project than just a couple renovations.

He steps inside and sits on the seat direct of her oak desk. She sits behind the desk, leaning in her leather chair and looking down at him like a  noir femme fatale . Her grin is gone but traces of amusement remain, tugging the corners of her lips.

“The walls are soundproof,” she tells him. “Say what you will.”

“How the fuck—”

“Now, Mr. Hale, this is a professional environment.”

“How did you know.” Derek nearly growls. “About me; about my family.”

Now her smile is full. “I know everything there is to know about you Hales. Don’t worry. I’m friend, not foe.”

Derek glowers, but he senses no lie from her. He remains quiet.

Mrs. Morrell crosses her arms across her desk. “Alright, back to business. The city is tearing down too many of Beacon Hill’s historical homes. These homes are important markers of Beacon Hill’s past, and tearing them down destroys not only a few potential sellers, but also erases our own cultural identity.

“I’ve said this already to the Financial and PR Departments, but it’s no use to them. They don’t think these homes are worth saving. These homes are very unique, Mr. Hale; you and I both know why, and we both know the reasons they’re important.”

“I know,” Derek says, “that’s why I came up here.” He sighs, “But I don’t know if I can do all these houses before April. Rehab is time and money.”

“And I provide both,” Morrell counters. “I’ve managed to persuade the Financial Department to give you a trial: If you re-build a house that can  sell by the end of this month, you’ll have all the time and money you need.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to move back here.” Derek says honestly. He hadn’t been back to Beacon Hills in nearly a decade, and so much since then has changed.

“With a Hale presence working in town again, it will boost public support.”

“I’m not one for the spotlight.”

“Don’t be difficult.” Morrell doesn’t smile. “You may have run off and became someone else,” she says sharply, “but you still mean something here, Derek.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to reply. He knows it’s already been decided.

“I’ll be choosing your trial house,” Morrell says.

**Author's Note:**

> DONT HAVE TIME TO EDIT IM AT SCHOOL RN BEING REBLLIOUS ON Ao3


End file.
